Once Upon A Train
by FacinelliFan882639s
Summary: Effie struggles with the loss of a tribute, and she and Haymitch end up becoming a little closer than they anticipated. T just for language.


Haymitch watched Effie with a heavy heart. True, he was brash and supposedly uncaring, but he could understand exactly what she was going through. The tribute's death had been particularly violent, not to mention...immoral to say the least. He stole a glass off of the table in front of them, and poured himself a particularly strong spirit. That was the last of their tributes, so they would be going home the next day anyway. He could take all of the capitol's liquor he could stand. He stood and staggered back to his car on the train, muttering to himself. There was nothing he wanted more in this world than to see the capital fall. For all they had done to him, to the families of the tributes that year, to the families of all the tributes in the history of the Hunger Games, and to their families. "Haymitch." The single word startled him, but mainly because of the voice that had uttered it. Without scorn or any facade of the hipocracy of superiority, it was actually quite harmonious to his ears. "What, Effie." He snapped, not expecting the muffled reply, her voice strained with the added cacophony of pending tears.  
"Please don't leave me alone." Haymitch sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Don't mess up your makeup. Come on."  
She tried to hide a smile as she followed him into his car. She couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the pugnent smell of booze and the undertone of couldn't complain, though. Through all his annoyances and imperfections in his mannerisms and punctuality, Haymitch, after all, wasn't terrible company. And, truth be told, he was handsome. His muscular, but still normal build was a welcome change to all the other tributes of the past, and most likely those of the future. Bulky, awkward, and any other abonibably muscular adjective she could list Haymitch wasn't like that. And he certainly had a unique personality. That was absolutely definate. But there was just something about him that Effie wanted to see, something she wanted him to share with her. To find a companion in her. Not just another annoyance of the Capitol, like she was to everyone else. Every year all she did was go out of her way to make anything and everything perfect for the games, for the other tributes to maybe enjoy the last few days of their life that would be enjoyable. And every year all she got was the frustrated and annoyed sighs from the disgruntled tributes, furious about their selection. She happily trotted- almost skipped to Haymitch's side as he poured himself another glass of whatever god-awful concotion he was drinking. "Want some?" The offer undoubtably surprised Effie, but she simply smiled. "oh, that's quite alright, Haymitch. You just drink all you please..." she winced at the fumes and sat down in one of the chairs carefully, a bit apprehensive. He threw himself into an adjacent chair, sighing. She felt his eyes on her, and she was careful not to meet his gaze. Another grunt and a longer sigh. "You know. You might actually be quite a beautiful woman without all that colored shit on your face." Effie, again, was taken aback. She turned, startled to Haymitch. He had said it so matter of factly, and his face matched his tone. She wasn't quite sure what to say. To recant with a smart remark, or to simply thank him. Thank him, crack a joke. Thank him, recant with a smart remark. The silence had lasted too long, and it had started to thicken in the room with what seemed like an understanding of foreshadowing. "Well...ehm...Thank you, Hatmitch." She smiled tightly. "and you might be actually quite a handsome gentleman if you weren't a drunken lore always. And perhaps if you shaved..."  
He scoffed. "Well, considering neither will happen, your cause is lost. but I appreciate the effort." "Why is it you find it neccessary to always be so...utterly inebriated?"  
Her innocent question was met with a downright glare as he answered, a hushed hiss of a whisper that was barely audible to even her, who sat right beside him. "You watch someone you witnessed as a friend in your district, even in your school be murdered in cold blood. You watch 23 people die right in front of you. Know what their families feel. Know what it would be like if it were you. Know that some are dead and their families suffering because YOU KILLED THEM. And you tell me. You tell me that the pain isn't unbearable. That you can deal with yourself on a day to day basis and not be disgusted. You tell me. that you can live with yourself. And know what you've done. Without being able to forget. To not dream at night. To not. have. a problem."  
She lightly touched his hand, surprised by it roughness from hard work, but also at its warmth and size. "I know. I dream every night of those killed...And i feel for their families...But I know the pain that you have...of experiencing it yourself...of being there...it has to be unbearable..."  
He hadn't expected this kind of empathy from her...Especially toward him. He had nothing to say, but instead just sighed through his nostrils and broke their gaze. Effie got up, and wordlessly exited his car, returning to her's for the night.  
That morning, Effie heard the awful hacking of Haymitch's hangover. trying to ignore the noise, she showered and sat down to plan her wardrobe. As she braced herself to perform the inevitable task of trying to convince Haymitch to clean himself up, she found herself looking forward to seeing him. She hadn't applied any Capitol attire, and she caught herself smirking as she threw her simple dressing down around her shoulders and tied it in the front. She recalled Haymitch's comment last night...and she subconsciously warned herself that her smirk wasn't because of that. She found Haymitch sleeping against the wall the toilet was on, leaning against the tank. She grabbed a paper towel and folded it into a neat square, kneeling down in front of him. She gently shook his shoulder, awaiting the groan of disapproval at the awakening. He did, in fact, moan, but she hadn't expected him to open his eyes. Those unbearable eyes...Filled with pain and regret, remorse...fear, even. She had never seen those eyes without the haze of alcohol, and now she saw why. Each of those unfathomable emotions combined to make the rearing pain that was his mind, each and every day. Or at least each and every night in his dreams. She couldn't believe the pain that was behind those beautiful blue eyes. "Effie..." He muttered, still listless. "Come, now, Haymitch." She whispered, dabbing at his mouth with the paper towel. "It's time to pull yourself together...It's time to get going." Before she could stop herself, she pulled him closer to her and kissed his forehead, then tucked his head under her chin in a light embrace. "Your clothes are on the dresser." She stroked his face once. "Get a shower."  
Haymitch smirked. "I was right. You are a beautiful woman without all that shit on..."  
Effie blushed, stumbling out. She couldn't figure out why, but she found herself lingering in Haymitch's cabin, sitting in his recliner. When he came into his car from getting a shower, he didn't notice Effie sitting there, initially. But when he turned to look out the window before blatantly dropping the towel around his waist, he froze. "WHAT THE HELL? WHAT'RE YOU DOING?" "I...honestly...don't know."She just sat there, in total awe. True, She knew Haymitch didn't have an awful figure, but she didn't expect him to be as muscular as he actually was. He was quite...beautiful, actually, "Maybe you should nix the colore-"  
"Yes, yes, Haymitch. The colored 'shit'." That got a healthy smirk from Haymitch. "well, Miss Trinket. I didn't ever dream to hear you curse."  
"You'd be surprised, Haymitch. I'm not exactly the person you think I am."  
He sighed, shaking his head and turning away from her. "Neither am I." "Well..." without even thinking, the approached him, cupping his face gently in her hands. He stopped breathing, or so it seemed to him. Effie leaned forward slowly, almost tantalizingly, almost teasing him. He felt her other hand on his chest, resting ever so lightly. "we'll see, won't we, Mr. Abernathy?" She turned on her heel, and went to her car, leaving an absolutely stunned Haymitch reeling. She had definately proved to him that she wasn't who he thought she was, that was certain.  
Through getting dressed, all he could think about was Effie. How unreally beautiful she was without the decorations of the Capitol. How her long flowing hair shone in the sunlight, as it was mostly hidden underneath a wig and suffered no damage. How peachy and perfect her skin was without makeup. How her eyes shone all on their own. He shook his head. This was exactly why he distanced himself from everyone, and why he lost himself in the alcohol. So he won't be close to anyone. Wouldn't fall in love. Wouldn't lose anyone else.  
But he was always with Effie. Every Hunger Games that rolled around, they would be together for however long they lasted. Every moment of every day...  
That was another reason he didn't get involved. People always left him confused. She had come in and taken care of him this morning. She had kissed his forehead...  
What did THAT mean?  
Just as he had plunked himself into a chair that he was growing particularly fond of, with a bottle of white liqour, Effie appeared in his doorway again. Still with no makeup on. She looked slightly disgruntled, if not frustrated. "Is this going to be a-"  
"Shut up." She hissed, putting a finger up to attempt to silence him. It had the exact opposite effect. "HEY! Don't you even DARE say that to me! And put that fu-"  
"Oh, just drink your booze and wallow in it!" "Why the hell are you in here, anyway?" "I DROPPED MY UNDERWEAR! SHUT UP!" With that, she grabbed something off of the floor and stormed out.  
The rest of the day was long and lonely for Haymitch, who mostly stayed in the chair he had thrown himself into and did just as Effie had told him to. He tried to remember why he had ever even thought of trying anythign with her other than a mutual yearly companionship. He couldn't.  
Effie did feel terrible for what she had said to him...It wasn't like she was heartless...She had just been embarrassed...very embarrassed. Instead of snapping at him, all she truly wanted to do was curl up in his arms on that chair. she just...wanted that kind of company. And she had dashed it away in a highly probably chance that she had definately wanted to take. But she had taken things too rashly...  
That night, Effie set out to find him. She knew he could only be in two places. She checked his car first, and had no such luck. Instead, he was passed out, lying face down on the bar, a glass of something still in his hand. She stroked his hair away from his face, smiling softly to herself.  
He grunted in protest, and swatted her hand away. Good. He was relatively awake.  
She gently stroked his back. "Haymitch?" Groan. "Haymitch, come on. You won't be able to stand up tomorrow...though i sincerely doubt you can now..." "Why the hell would you care in the first place?" The hostile reply was muttered and slightly muffled, but it didn't remove any anger.  
"I'll talk to you when you're sober. Not now."  
He lurched up from the bar, raised his hand and opened his mouth to say something, and fell off the back of the barstool. She kneeled down beside him, astounded by the fact that two black eyes were starting to purple, but mostly the bridge of his nose. Like someone had punched him right between the eyes. Blood was dried in streams down his face. "Good lord! What did you do?"  
"Like i said, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU CARE?"  
Effie sighed. "Come on...Let's just go back to your car..."  
"Dammit! Get off me!" He growled, standing up, staggering, then stumbling his way back to his train car. That morning, at breakfast, he didn't even bother to come into the dining room. Irritated, Effie stormed into the train car, but was startled when she found him in bed still, groaning with a pillow over his face.  
"What...?"  
"Haymitch, I-"  
"Oh for God's sake, Effie. What did you forget this time, your ass?"  
"Haymitch..." She sat down beside him on the bed and put a hand on his back. He startled, but didn't move otherwise. "I'm sorry i was like that with you, yesterday. I'm sorry I said that to you. That was hurtful...And i had no excuse to do that. I...I suppose i'm just confused about...what i did earlier yesterday morning."  
He was silent for a moment. "So, you recant what you said and did? Or you just don't know why you did it. Especially with me." She chuckled slightly, lying down close to him, and wrapping her arms around him. "Neither. Just confused as to how i let myself do it. I always have to be so reserved all the time..."  
All he could think about in that moment was how good it felt to have someone hug him again. To have someone there with him again. All he wanted to do in that moment was relax and simply enjoy it. But he couldn't let himself. From all the times he had been hurt before. Maysilee. His mother. His sister. His girlfriend...all killed by an action of the capitol. All the others that left him...He couldn't let himself. He was tired of being hurt. "Oh! Thats right you had a nasty fight last night, didn't you. Hows your face?" She tried to pull the pillow off of his face, but he held it there. "I'm fine." "Haymitch. Come now. It looked bad last night...you had blood running down your face and everything..." She stroked his hair that she could reach, surprised that he didn't protest.  
"I'm fine." She reached under the pillow to search his face. She got what she wanted. She knew exactly where his nose was possibly broken, and when she lightly pushed on it, he lurched up, struggling against her and throwing the pillow. "OW! DAMMIT WOMAN!"  
She gasped. He had two black eyes, and the bridge of his nose was badly bruised, and a cut on his eyebrow. "Oh, dear! Let me take care of that for you!" "No, i'll do it myself. I've got it-"  
Frustrated, she grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Dammit, Haymitch! Why won't you let someone HELP you for once? Why won't you let somebody be NICE to you for once? I'm TRYING but you won't LET ME."  
Startled, he just froze and looked at her, wide eyed. She took advantage of his gained silence, examining the bridge of his nose, the cut on his eyebrow, testing his vision. Then, cleaning the cut and putting a butterfly bandage over it so it would heal, and putting a strip of gauze over the bridge of his nose. "There." She smiled, stroking his cheek slightly. She was truly surprised by his lack of protest at the contact she was giving him. "Now you're all fixed up." He leaned into her hand, sighing. "Physically, anyway." He looked up at her with those eyes again. Those eyes she could never comprehend. "Haymitch, you can talk to me, you know. I'll listen...It might help some...It might ease some of the pain."  
"I'm not good at talking to people." The simple excuse wasn't meant to hold as much as it did, but Effie knew it was because he didn't want to burden people. Didn't want the sympathy.  
"Well..." She smirked and staddled him, still slumped on the floor. "You can talk to me." With that, she kissed him, surprised at how she loved the tickle of his beard against her skin rather than loathing it. She was even more surprised when he recovered fom the shock and kissed ber back, slowly, deliberately. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and held tight. She never wanted to let go. She didnt understand why, considering this was the very person who pushed her buttons every waking moment they were together, but something about him...  
She felt his strong, calloused hands on her sides, gently caressing her. She couldn't help but blush, and he relished in the warmth of her cheeks. When they broke, she rested her head on his shoulder, burying her face in his neck, and entwining her hand in his hair. She sighed contentedly, nuzzling him. He wrapped his arms around her. Strong, protective...warm. "I see that you're not who I think you are, Ms. Trinket." She smirked, lightly kissing his neck. "No, Mr. Abernathy. I'm not." 


End file.
